David
Kidney here. Last weekend, I was pretty
much out of touch. The weather was beautiful,
autumn fresh, sunshiney, with that crisp cool air
that makes for perfect football playing weather.
The local University team was in a playoff game at
the Stadium. You could hear the cheering as they
defeated their long-time rivals from further on
down the road. The neighbourhood church was
celebrating the arts, with a gallery of
contributions that I co-curated. It was lovely,
paintings and carvings, poetry, hand-crafts from
members of the fellowship of all ages. And the
quality, of an unbelievably high level. Who knew
there was such talent in the pews?

During the day they provided music in the main
sanctuary. Sing what you like, people were
told, and the folksinger sang 'Pancho & Lefty'
and 'FDR in Trinidad,' while the ex-missionary
played choruses on the keyboard while and daughter
sang, and the songleader joined his daughter in a
trio of violin duets... Pachelbel, I think, was
one. Visitors wandered in and out, it was a perfect
day. Then the sun dropped down beyond the horizon,
and the evening concert began. The Toronto
Mass Choir. Thirty-five voices united as
one. They rocked the chapel. They soared. They
invited the audience to participate. I sang with
them. One song. We learned the choreography, and
the vocal parts, and then we lifted our voices
together. After five minutes I was exhausted...and
the choir had been singing for ninety! Whew! Sunday
night was a band concert.

Anyway, they were looking for me here at the Green Man offices. SPike had been involved
in some misadventure at the skating pond. Not sure
that it wasn't deserved; but you know he is not
much of a swimmer after the van accident in which
he lost his brother Fred... but the musos all ended
up drinking together so it must have been all in
good fun. SPike is nursing himself back to health
with large helpings of Paddy 'n' Red...not sure he
wants to get well.

We have a bumper crop of things to review this
week. From the sublime to the...well...to the other
sublime. Nothing that comes in is quite as
ridiculous as daily life in the Green Man
Building. Ask anyone. Ask SPike!